


Like Looking in the Mirror

by melodycanta



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 17:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17944205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodycanta/pseuds/melodycanta
Summary: Tokiya comes home to find two Otoyas.





	Like Looking in the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KureKai_King](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KureKai_King/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Finn!!!! I know I told you I'd write you a reader insert fic, but I did, and it's honestly horrible. I did not want you to think I hated you, so instead . . . I brought in Otoya's clone. c:
> 
> Otoji is written with 音二, which is why his name is significant (it's the first kanji of Otoya's name + two).
> 
> There's a lot of implication in this fic, so you should be able to guess what's going on with Otoji thanks to the clues I've left, but . . . problems with a very close third perspective: Tokiya is sometimes a moron.

If there was one thing Tokiya did not expect when he walked into his shared apartment, it was to see two of his single roommate sitting on the couch, cheerfully chatting away like there was nothing wrong. Indeed, he figured, it was possible for Otoya to have a twin brother, particularly since he didn’t know all of the details of his parentage, but just seeing the same image, opposite one another like one Otoya was talking to himself in a mirror . . . 

Well, it was just unsettling.

It was particularly so when he shut the door behind himself and both redheads turned to him with an ecstatic “Tokiya!” in the exact same pitch so that it was only his experienced musical ear that could discern that it was two different voices that sounded the same. Somehow, he couldn’t figure out which Otoya was his Otoya, even though he must have never met the other. The bright, elated gaze he was used to seeing was doubled, four twinkling crimson eyes looking up at him like he was the only person in the room. He staggered backwards, reeling slightly from the sheer bizarre nature of the situation. 

“Um . . . hi.”

“Are you okay?” one Otoya asked, while the other one frowned and said, “you look weird.”

Well, those were both normal Otoya responses. 

“There’s . . . who . . . ?” His brain was seemingly losing traction, stuck in the same loop of “how the hell are there two Otoya Ittokis sitting on the couch in front of me?” and “which Otoya is the real Otoya?” “You . . .”

“Let me explain!” the Otoya on the left chirped. “This is Otoya Ittoki! And I’m Otoya Ittoki!”

Tokiya waited for more of an explanation, but that Otoya was supposedly done, because he just beamed up at him expectantly.

“I’m . . . gonna need more than that.”

“Oh.” The Otoya on the right frowned. “Um . . . well, we’re both Otoya Ittoki. And we’re both here, somehow, in the same place.”

“We’re like . . . exactly the same, I think!” the other Otoya said excitedly. “Look, he’s got the same scar from the oil splatter a few years ago!”

Both Otoyas waved their right hands in his face, showing off the small scar on his thumb that he’d gotten from getting too close to the oil during one of Reiji’s midnight karaage sessions. Tokiya remembered that scar clearly, since Otoya had yelped and then tried to go right back to frying to the point that Tokiya and Reiji had been forced to tackle him to get him to run it under cold water. 

“I wonder if there’s more,” the one on the right said, starting to pull his sweatshirt over his head.

Tokiya could feel his face start to heat up as he tried to keep both Otoyas from taking off their clothes. 

It took a while, particularly since both Otoyas seemed to believe they were his Otoya, but eventually they agreed on calling one of them Otoji, and Tokiya was mostly sure the other was the Otoya he’d been living with for the last few years. Of course, it was hard to tell, seeing as they both had the exact same mannerisms, said the exact same things, even cocked their head to the right and stuck their tongue out when they were concentrating. Tokiya had to rein them both in as they made dinner, but once they were both fed, they quickly dropped into a post-curry coma, sprawled against each other on the couch. They looked like twins like that, and for a moment, Tokiya wondered if that’s what they would have looked like as children, tuckered out after a long day of playing soccer. It made him pause, for just a second, looking wistfully at his roommate-times-two. What would have his life been like had he known Otoya when they were children? Perhaps he wouldn’t have felt quite so lonely, he mused as he finished drying the dishes. His childhood had been a multitude of solitary activities, compounding loneliness with achievement so that he received pleasure from neither. He’d even tried to become the person he needed when he was a child, someone to smile and tell him that everything was alright, but . . . well, HAYATO had been a disaster from the start. It had felt inauthentic and awkward, and Tokiya finally knew that it had been doomed to fail because he couldn’t sing something he didn’t believe. He’d assumed that all of that cheeriness and positivity had to be a façade because he didn’t feel it himself, but after meeting Otoya, it was obvious that there were people who did feel that. He’d leave it to them to be that guiding force. As for himself, he’d just have to keep pushing Otoya in any way that he could.

He wasn’t entirely sure how tonight would work out, seeing as they only had a two-bedroom apartment, although the way they were currently cuddled up, Tokiya doubted Otoya would mind having his clone sleep next to him. There was always the couch too, and then they could figure everything else out in the morning, like how one of them had gotten here. 

Tokiya settled into the nearby armchair with a stack of sheet music and his headphones, marking up his musical scores in pencil as he listened to the background music for their latest song. Haruka had really outdone herself this time, he mused. He had no doubts it would be quite the experience for the listener. 

This kind of work was calming for him; he felt himself starting to zero in and focus on the lilts and the trills and the way that the instruments weaved through each other’s sounds. It was always incredible to be a part of something like this, with masters showing the fruits of their intense practice, all for him to sing over the top. It was humbling in a way that didn’t make him feel subservient; instead, it spurred him on to do better, to reach higher, to exceed their expectations just as they always did his.

That may have been why when there was a tap on his shoulder, he flinched so hard the paper went flying. He barely rescued his disc player before it hit the carpet, and when he sat back up, Otoji held his pencil out to him. “You okay?” he asked with a mildly amused grin.

“I’m fine, you just . . . startled me.” He’d actually given him something closer to a heart attack, but hashing that over wouldn’t do anything, so he moved on. “Do you need something?”

Otoji glanced over his shoulder at the slumbering Otoya, who was now covered with the blanket usually thrown over the couch. He’d been adjusted so that he was sprawled across the couch rather than sitting upright, and Tokiya knew he’d probably have to carry Otoya to bed if he didn’t want him sleeping out here. “Yeah. I just . . . wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

Tokiya nodded his assent, and Otoji perched on the edge of the coffee table like Tokiya had told Otoya not to do a million times. Obviously, the other Tokiya hadn’t figured out how to stop Otoya from doing it either. 

“I just . . . I wanted to thank you.” At Tokiya’s bewildered expression, Otoji laughed. “I know you’re not my Tokiya. Believe me, my Tokiya would have had _way_ different ideas of what to do with two of me.” The way he said that was suggestive like . . . that couldn’t be what he meant, could it? Tokiya could feel his cheeks heat up even at the thought. “But, no matter what, you still care for him, don’t you? The other me, I mean.”

“Of course.” It felt a little weird to say out loud, but it didn’t feel bad. He did care for Otoya. They were rivals and best friends and roommates and Otoya Ittoki meant a lot to him, even if he’d never said it in so many words. 

“It means a lot, you know.” Otoji looked back at Otoya again. “As long as he has you, he’ll never be alone. Even though he feels inadequate a lot of the time, and he worries that he’ll never do anything right.” Otoji’s lashes dipped as he looked away. “It’s funny, because I thought this would be hard to say, but it’s easy. You’re Tokiya, but you’re not my Tokiya. And maybe, this way, I can get some of these thoughts off my chest.”

“Why can’t you tell your Tokiya?” 

“It’s not him,” Otoji was quick to say. “It’s me. I can’t help but worry that I’ll screw something up. I’ll say the wrong thing or I’ll say it in the wrong way, or even worse, I’ll say something I don’t mean while I’m trying not to say it wrong. And I know my Tokiya; he’d understand. But . . .”

“But?”

“I believe in Tokiya the most, and so I want him to believe in me too. And how do you believe in someone who is so unsure of themselves?”

That was news to Tokiya. “You’re unsure of yourself?”

“Of everything I do, yeah. I’m always worried it’s not going to be enough or I’m doing too much, or I’m making it too hard, and . . . I want to be good for him. My Tokiya deserves that—you probably deserve it too; sorry for making it sound like you don’t. But I know that Tokiya believes in me, and I don’t want to let him down.”

This sort of philosophical dilemma was something Otoya only usually did under extreme stress, and Tokiya wondered for a moment about whether or not it would be polite to ask what was on Otoji’s mind before deciding against it. “Like you said, you’re not my Otoya,” he said slowly, trying to work out what was in his brain. “But . . . I don’t think you’re going to let him down unless you stop being yourself.”

“Stop . . . being myself?”

“Yeah. And I don’t mean that thing you do where you pretend you’re not upset or sad and just force a smile for everyone else. That’s not you. It’s all of you: the happiness and the sadness and the anger and the excitement. Just don’t hide that and keep being honest with who you are, and you’ll be fine. You won’t let me—or more, him—down.”

There was a long moment as Otoji chewed on his lip, mulling that over. Tokiya recognized the expression from his Otoya. “Yeah . . . I think you might be right,” he finally said, and there was the barest hint of a smile on his face. 

“I usually am,” Tokiya said.

Otoji giggled. “There’s the Tokiya Ichinose humility I love,” he joked, standing. “I’m gonna use the bathroom; go back to what you were doing. Although . . . that note?” He pointed to one on the sheet music Tokiya had gathered back into his lap. “You should make it the G rather than playing it safe with the D-flat.”

Interesting proposition . . . he settled back into his chair and put his headphones back on, debating the merits of it. A higher note would definitely make more of an impression, but making that transition from the lower E flat would be difficult. Then again, he could execute it as a glissando. He hummed it under his breath, making sure to be quiet enough not to wake Otoya.

When Otoya finally stirred, rubbing his eyes, Tokiya had finally decided on the G. Otoji was right; it would be better in the song, even with how difficult it was. “What are you doing?”

“Working on the harmonies for Setsugetsuka.”

“Oh?” He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch before seemingly realizing something. “Where’s Otoji?”

“He’s in the bathroo . . .” Tokiya cut himself off as he realized just how long it had been since he’d said that. “I don’t know,” he admitted, moving the stack of music off his lap so that he could get up. Otoya studied the sheet he’d been working on, ignoring how Tokiya began to look in every room. Otoji wasn’t in the bathroom still, nor was he in Otoya’s room, but when he got to his own room, he paused, seeing a velvet box and a note on his comforter. 

_“Thanks for making what I should do clear. Maybe someday you can tell your Otoya what you told me.”_

The box was a normal velvet jewelry box, although it was empty. Tokiya guessed there must have been a ring inside, based on the fact that there was only one slit in the center. He wasn’t quite sure what the significance of it was, but apparently Otoji hadn’t needed it any longer.

“This G is really high!” Otoya said when he returned to the living room. He was still engrossed in the sheet music. 

“It’s going to be hard to hit it, but I think it will be worth it,” Tokiya said, acknowledging the risk.

Otoya beamed at him. “I’m sure you can do it,” he insisted. “There’s no doubt in my mind!”

_“I believe in Tokiya the most”_ , Otoji had said, and suddenly, Tokiya recognized that in Otoya too, from the adoring look in his eyes. 

Maybe someday he’d tell Otoya what he’d said, he agreed.


End file.
